


Tell Me When It's Over (Gonna Go Down In Flames)

by sadspencer



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Autistic Spencer Reid, Bisexual Spencer Reid, Delusions, Drug Addiction, Hurt Spencer Reid, Mental Health Issues, Sad Spencer Reid, Schizophrenia, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Spencer Reid Whump, Spencer Reid-centric, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, though its not explicitly stated, yes im projecting through spencer reid again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadspencer/pseuds/sadspencer
Summary: he's not sure what he did to cause god to punish him so badly, but it must have been awful if this is the life he deserves.••or the one in which spencer is mentally ill
Comments: 23
Kudos: 117





	Tell Me When It's Over (Gonna Go Down In Flames)

**Author's Note:**

> title from "blank space" by taylor swift
> 
> i have to warn you that there's a lot of suicidal thoughts in this and it could possibly be triggering, so please be careful
> 
> also, warning - a slur for schizophrenia is used in this (that in no way reflects my own views) during the scene in the restaurant when a woman comes up to spencer. and there's vomiting in the first paragraph after the cut, so skip that paragraph if you need to

mornings are always the same. regardless of the amount of sleep he'd gotten, he'd get out of bed at six. he'd make himself a coffee, drinking it all before going back to his bedroom and changing into the clothes he'd set out the night before. when that's done, he'd read a book on the couch, followed by making sure everything's in his bag, grabbing his coat, and leaving. 

it's routine. it's familiar. it's safe.

this morning, he wakes up with a feeling of dread so heavy it's suffocating. he spends an extra two minutes in bed, trying to prolong the inevitable of leaving the house, but eventually the need to stick to his routine forces him to get up. there's no reason to feel dread, it's just a regular day, so there's no reason to let it affect him. it does, however, make him pause momentarily before opening his bedroom door, only poking his head around it at first and looking around his apartment suspiciously.

he feels like someone is watching him.

profiler paranoia. it comes with the job. he knows this. he just has to get on with his morning, get some caffeine in him, and get some fresh air. the feeling would go away once he's outside.

rushing himself won't help anything. if he messes with his schedule, it would just leave him feeling anxious and uncomfortable. so he takes his time. he makes his coffee, he drinks it all, he goes back to his bedroom to get dressed. he reads a book on the couch, he checks that everything is in his bag, he grabs his coat. he leaves his apartment. and if he walks faster than normal down his stairs, that's perfectly fine. a breath of fresh air is very much needed.

the feeling doesn't go away once he walks outside. if anything, it only grows more intense. the idea of getting in a vehicle, either by himself or with strangers, makes him feel sick. he feels trapped just thinking about it. today is a day for walking to work, it seems.

he puts earphones in but, though they're plugged into his phone, no music is playing. it's a trick he'd learnt when he was younger - the other kids thought he couldn't hear them so they'd talk out loud about their plans to shove him in lockers or lock him in the bathroom and turn out the lights. now he's using it to make sure the strangers he passes aren't talking about him. he keeps his head down, eyes briefly flicking up every now and then to check his surroundings. he can't be sure, but he knows people keep staring at him. not blatantly, but they look at him for a few seconds before looking away. it feels familiar. did they always do that? had he just never noticed people watching him?

he wants to put his music on; to drown out the thoughts with tchaikovsky blasting in his ears. but he can't. if his music was on, he wouldn't be able to tell if people spoke about him. so far, nobody has. but what if they did and he just didn't hear them? the people he passes seem to all know to keep looking at him but they aren't talking. how are they communicating? maybe they'd planned it beforehand. 

he can see his building in the distance. finally, a chance to get away from all the prying eyes. he should probably tell morgan or someone about all the people watching him, he thinks. he's not sure though. it might just make him sound paranoid. plus, there's not much morgan can do about it. he'll have to just accept it for now and hope that it's over. 

walking into the building is different. there aren't many eyes on him other than the usual - sarah at reception always looks at him and smiles, as do marcus the security guard and sam from the mail room. he's friends with them, often talking to them in the mornings. today, he doesn't want to stop and talk. he just wants to get to his desk and get lost in paperwork until he can get home and figure out why people were looking at him this morning. he's in the elevator when he wonders why the people here didn't look at him. maybe they didn't talk to the people from the streets. or maybe it's because they work for the fbi, they're better at being secretive with their glances. how is he supposed to know if they stare at him if they're so good at making sure he doesn't?

the elevator doors open on his floor, somehow managing to go up six floors without a single person getting on. it's good, he doesn't think he would have been able to be trapped in there with someone with how people keep watching him, but it also makes him suspicious. why exactly did nobody get on? there's a very low chance of him riding his morning elevator alone - it's always busy at this time, and it's never happened before. are they aware he knows that they've been watching him? maybe it was a tactical move, him being alone. he could've somehow found out more information had someone been with him. 

other than hotch, nobody from his team is there yet so he heads straight for the break room for more coffee. only one person looks at him as he walks past everyone, someone from a different floor, her eyes just naturally drawn to the movement as eyes often are. nobody else spares him a single glance. or do they? he's not sure. he thinks again about being in a building with federal agents who are skilled at hiding their actions. there's a strong chance that they're just looking at him when he's not paying full attention. he can't be certain, though.

after staying in the break room for longer than he normally does, he makes his way over to his desk, placing his coffee on the surface and his bag on the floor. they're still not looking at him as he starts on his work. his team trickle in as time goes on, each of them greeting him in their normal ways but nothing beyond. 

he doesn't want to raise suspicion. he knows that there's something going on, something that's been going on for longer than he realises. he's only just noticed the staring today but he knows for a fact that it must have been going on longer than he's actually aware. the glances he received on his way were too discreet for today to be the first time. if he didn't have the instinct he did (born out of his profession, as well as the bullying he endured for years and years), he never would have noticed. it's surprising to him that it took him this long to figure out that something was going on.

voicing it out loud isn't an option. he doesn't know who exactly is in on whatever this is, so he doesn't know who to watch out for. it's doubtful that the team is involved but he can't rule out the possibility. after all, they're all experts in behaviour - not just reading it in others, but in controlling their own. if they really are a part of this, he'd probably never know. he supposes he'll just have to pay more attention to them. 

he really hopes that his team isn't involved in whatever it is. he has no idea what ' _it_ ' even is but he knows it can't be anything good, not with the way he keeps being watched (and he knows he's being watched because he can feel their eyes on him, even if they look away before their gaze can be returned). he trusts his team; he loves his team; he doesn't know what he'd do if they turned out to be a part of _it_.

figuring out what's happening is his top priority, but in order to do that he has to act as though he isn't aware of their scheme. if they figure out he's onto them, things might go south real fast. his eyes dash furtively across the room every few minutes, trying to catch someone in the act of watching him without them realising. they seem to have some kind of agreement to not look at him, only a few eyes briefly flicking over to him. how are they communicating? earlier he considered it being planned beforehand but they just seem so in sync, so connected. nobody even has their phone out, so it's not through text. but how else would they be talking?

he carries on doing his paperwork while he thinks. the knowledge that they're watching him makes his mask stay firmly in place. he's a little more distant from everyone, but that can easily be passed off as him just being him. maybe he can lie to hotch, make up some reason to leave early. he can't get the feeling that he was being watched in his apartment out of his head. checking for bugs would be a smart move, and he wants to do it as soon as possible. 

he looks at hotch's door for a split second before taking another look around the room. prentiss is looking at him, but turns her head to her paperwork as soon as she realises he's seen her. hang on. wait. prentiss? prentiss was looking at him? prentiss was _hiding_ the fact that she was looking at him?

he hates to even think about it but… could they be a part of _it_? sure, prentiss could just be looking at him for any number of other reason, but it's too much of a coincidence. plus, she hid it. she never normally hides when she looks at him. he needs to leave. he needs to get out of the building, back to his apartment, and make sure nobody is watching him there. they've infiltrated his whole life apparently, he wants his safe space to at least stay safe.

mind made up, he knocks on hotch's door, entering when prompted, but doesn't take a seat.

"hey, hotch," he pauses, unsure how to continue. this was an impulsive decision mostly, he didn't actually think through what he's going to say. it's not as if he can tell the truth. he doesn't even know if hotch is involved. but if prentiss is involved, surely hotch is too. but if they both are, does that mean the rest of the team is too?

he's broken from his thoughts by hotch clearing his throat. "yes, reid?" his boss raises an eyebrow at him.

"uh, i need to- i need to go home." smooth. 

hotch's brows furrow. "is everything okay?"

spencer opens and closes his mouth a few times, still trying to figure out the best way to proceed. he wants to say no, knowing that hotch would let him go, but he can't because he would never normally admit that and it could cause one of his coworkers to check on him later. he licks his lips in thought. "yeah, yeah, everything's fine. i've just finished all my paperwork and i have plans tonight, so i was hoping to leave a little early to prepare."

brief amusement lights hotch's eyes, confusing the younger man. he thinks back over what he said before realising that it makes it sound like he's going on a date. it's not as if he lied, he _does_ have plans tonight that he needs to prepare for - it's just that it won't be dinner with a pretty person, it'll be sneakily checking his apartment for bugs before brainstorming reasons for everyone's interest in him and how he's only just noticed.

"you've finished all of your paperwork, you say? did you get a chance to look over the baker case?" 

work talk. he can do work talk. "yeah," he nods, "it was the older brother. he was jealous of his sister's achievements and the fact that she was clearly the favourite. the parents are also being investigated due to clear signs of neglect and possible abuse to the rest of the siblings." 

"good work. i see no reason to keep you here if you have no work to complete. have fun with your plans tonight."

spencer smiles awkwardly before leaving the office, heading straight for the bag under his desk and shoving everything in. it wasn't the most inconspicuous method of packing but it was quick, and right now he just needed to leave.

"hey, pretty boy, where you going?"

he froze only for a second before resuming his packing. "uh, home. got plans, hotch said i can leave early."

morgan grinned. "plans, huh? what sort of plans would these be?"

normally he would've taken this as morgan being nosy, or just friendly. but after everything that he's realised today, he can't rule out the possibility that he's trying to gather information for _it_.

"just plans." 

"alright, genius. keep your secrets. we both know i'll get information from you tomorrow."

_i'll get information from you tomorrow_

shit. shit! morgan is a part of _it_! his best friend is involved in whatever the fuck is going on and he doesn't even know what _it_ is! he needs to get home and figure it out. if it was just his friends, he'd think it could've been something good. but everyone in the building as well as a bunch of civilians he doesn't even know? there's no way that's anything but nefarious. 

he can feel everyone's eyes on him. he's frozen, staring at his bag and the file in his hand that he needs to put away, and everyone is staring at him. there's no way they all heard their conversation, so how did they know to turn and look at him? they didn't even talk, they were just in complete sync, he can feel it! it was almost as if they were one person.

almost as if they were one person. one person. one person who has the power to be several people at once. one person who could be every person on earth. one person who is-

"oh my god." he mutters, jaw dropping, eyes widening, face losing colour.

"reid?"

he slowly lifts his head to look at morgan and sees the way the man's eyes have narrowed. oh fuck, oh fuck. he said _oh my god_. do they know he knows? or are they just mad that he said their name? spencer's never been religious but he knows that christians don't typically like it when you use the lord's name in vain. surely god himself would like that even less. did he just upset god? 

"i-i'm sorry." he takes a step back.

morgan doesn't move forward. "reid? what's wrong?" 

he can feel his breathing become laboured, feel that he can't stop it. his head is spinning and everything is getting blurry. 

"reid? why are you shaking your head?" he wasn't even aware he was. "shit, man. sit down. you're having a panic attack."

morgan reaches forward, under the guise of gently pushing him down into a chair. but spencer knows better. he can't let morgan touch him. if he lets him touch him, he doesn't know what would happen. 

he stumbles back a few steps, nearly tripping over his desk. shaking hands drop the file he's holding and close his bag, holding the strap in a vice-like grip. 

"i-i have to get home. plans. feel sick. gotta go."

not giving morgan a chance to reply, he rushes out the room and down the six flights of stairs, not wanting to risk the elevator. he just runs and runs and doesn't pay attention. how did he miss this? everyone on his team always pays close attention to him, more attention than they pay anybody else. he thought it was just because he's the youngest, the weakest. he never considered that it would be anything more.

suddenly he's opening the door to his apartment, not having been aware he was even in his building. he knows he can't let on that he's fully aware, so he has to be careful in his way of checking for bugs. looking around, he realises that there are far too many places for bugs to hide. he has books on almost every surface - the living room table, the dinner table, the couch, the floor. not to mention the bookshelves, filled to the brim. there could be a microphone in any of those. there could be a camera in any corner of his apartment. they could be in his bedroom, his bathroom, his kitchen. anywhere. he can't stay here.

he grabs his box of emergency money, knowing he only needs enough for a hotel for the night but not having time to only grab a small amount. he doesn't know where exactly to go, he just knows it has to be far away from here. he can stop to think when he's in a safer place. 

driving his car isn't ideal, they could easily find him, but it's much preferable to catching the bus and being surrounded by them. he grabs his go bag, runs down to his car, and drives. he doesn't know where he's driving. he just drives. after three hours, he doesn't quite know where he is, but he sees a small motel on the side of the road. it's run down, probably not the safest, but these places usually don't have cameras which works in his favour. 

the man at the front desk barely glances at him, just grunts out a price for the night and gives him his keys. good, if he's not paying attention then he doesn't realise who spencer is.

he rushes to his assigned room, shutting the door harder than he means to as panic begins to build up. deep breath. panic isn't an option right now - he needs to think. he needs to go over what he knows. he's a man of logic, he can figure this out. he lays down on the closest bed after throwing his bag on the floor, staring at the ceiling to keep him focused.

everybody watches him. how long it's been going on is still a mystery, but he knows it must have been for a while before this. they don't need to communicate, they just instantly know everything that the others know, as if they share one hive mind. his team is a part of this. if emily and derek are, the rest of them must be. it can't just be the people in his city, because he knows that people in other cities pay too close attention to him as well. so it's at least all of america. there is only one being that might have such power, and that's someone spencer doesn't even believe in. it's impossible for it to be everybody communicating with each other without ever speaking, and this is the only option left.

spencer firmly believes in the saying, "when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth". so no matter how improbable it is that this being exists, it's not necessarily impossible. it's the only thing it can be.

it's god.

god is everyone around him. morgan isn't actually morgan, the woman he passed on the street isn't actually just the woman he passed on the street, shit - his mother isn't actually his mother. everybody he's ever met. they're all the same person. they're all god. 

but why would god have such an interest in spencer? did god put him here? he thought god was supposed to be omnibenevolent - isn't loving everyone kind of his whole thing? but if god is supposed to love him, why has his whole life been tragedy? he's come to the conclusion that everyone he's ever met has actually just been god in different bodies, that means that god was his father and gideon and tobias and every unsub who's put a gun to his head and the bullies from high school and every other last person who hurt him. spencer's whole life has been one long trauma. this has to be some sort of punishment. 

he's not sure what he did to cause god to punish him so badly, but it must have been awful if this is the life he deserves.

there isn't even anything spencer can do to get away. how do you run from god? there's no point panicking. it'll do no good. his only option is to stay here and not attract attention. god is probably aware that he knows the truth by now. the punishment isn't really affective anymore if he knows none of it is actually real. clearly if this was about repenting, he'd have been told why he was there. this is just about making him pay for whatever he did. but if the punishment is no longer affective whilst he still needs to pay for his actions, then god would need to restart it. 

spencer shoots up into a sitting position as he gasps in air with wide eyes. 

oh no. oh fuck. he's going to die. god is going to kill him so that he can start his punishment from the beginning. sure, he'd rather live a life where he wasn't aware that god himself was after him, but there's absolutely no fucking way he is going to start a life of suffering all over again. 

if god could just smite him down where he sat, he would have by now. this means that he can't. someone is going to come and kill him. the need for spencer to suffer will most likely carry onto this as well, so the person that kills him will be someone that would cause him more pain than the death itself. it's going to be someone on the team.

he sighs. he never thought that he would be in a random motel profiling god.

okay. deep breaths. calm down. figure out a plan.

he obviously needs to stay away from his team. he has enough money on him to last him quite a while, so long as he stays in motels like the one he's in right now. cheap with no cameras. he considers that god might just be able to watch him, but surely if he could then someone would be with him by now. maybe god isn't actually all-powerful, but is instead just the creator of this prison. otherwise, he would have already killed spencer instead of sending ~~a friend~~ a body to him. 

if he skips town every night or two, and only uses his credit card infrequently, they won't be able to track him. he'll have to turn his phone off and get a new one, of course. 

as if on queue, his phone rings. it's hotch. given that it's now the middle of the night, it must be for a case. at least, that's what they want him to think. he knows it's just a ruse to get him down there so that they can kill him.

he declines the call, powering it off before throwing it against the wall as hard as he can. it's an old phone, so it breaks straight away. there, now they have no way of finding him. he'll have to get a new car but for now, he should be okay. 

satisfied that he's done as much as he can for the night, he gets changed into clothes from his bag and lies down again, this time with the intent of sleeping. there's a chance someone could kill him in the night but he highly doubts it, and he'll be leaving first thing in the morning. after the exhaustion of panicking all day and the emotional toll of discovering the truth of his life, it doesn't take long for his eyes to shut and breathing to even out.

when he wakes up, he has no way of knowing what time it is. given the sunrise he can slightly see peaking through the part of the window that the curtain doesn't cover, he finds it safe to assume that it's early enough for him to get a move on. he gets changed, thinking about how he'll need to buy some new clothes. he also needs something to eat.

nobody's at the desk when he leaves and his car is still in the same spot he left it, so he gets straight in, shoving his bag in the backseat, and drives. he doesn't know where he is and he actually hasn't been here before, not even for a case, so he doesn't know anywhere to get food. the plan is to just drive until he finds a diner, and then decide what to do next while he's eating. 

half an hour later, he's sat drinking a coffee with a plate of pancakes in front of him. the rumbling in his stomach reminds him of the lack of food he ate yesterday, so he clears his plate quickly, ordering another coffee once he's done. by time his second coffee is done, he's decided to not plan everything out in detail. all he knows is that he won't be staying in the same city for more than two nights at a time, and there are a few places he needs to avoid - vegas, virginia, california, and new orleans. anybody who could hurt him emotionally lives in those places and he can't risk going near them. he'll also need to be careful of the team finding him while they're on a case, since he has no way of knowing where they'll be. 

eventually his coffee is gone, so he pulls his travel mug out of his messenger bag and gets them to fill that up instead. he moves on autopilot as he drives away in his car, not entirely sure where he's going. after stopping for gas in a small town a few hours later, another motel appears in the distance. it's still early but spencer's tired and just wants to sleep. he pays for a night there and passes out on the bed the second his head hits the pillow.

later on, he's eating dinner at a little hole in the wall restaurant when a woman comes up to him. she bats her eyelashes and says, "hi there. i saw that you were eating alone and i just wondered if you wanted company."

really, god? sending a woman to flirt with him so that she can get him alone, probably to wait for his team to get there? he'll have to try finding a better way to trick spencer, because this is bordering on pathetic. 

he stares her in the eyes with an unamused look on his face. "you can't fool me, god. you know who i am, it doesn't work."

god reels back in surprise. "i'm sorry, what?"

spencer rolls his eyes. "i'm not stupid. you can drop the act."

god tries to act genuinely shocked, and if spencer didn't know better, he'd probably believe it. "what act?"

he scoffs. "we both know that i know. i'm not hiding it. and i know what your plan is. it's not going to happen, so you may as well give up because we also both know that i can run forever."

"what the fuck are you talking about?" god sneers. "i don't know who you are, fucking schizo." 

at the last word, spencer freezes. he's not schizophrenic. he's not. if this was just some big delusion, he'd know it. but it's not. this is just a cruel joke that god is playing, using a low blow in an attempt to trick him. it won't work. 

he's suddenly stood up, one hand fisted at his side and one pointed straight at god. "stop lying. stop fucking lying. i don't know what sin i committed that was so heinous that i deserve this prison, but i'm not letting you win. you won't kill me."

with that, he storms out of the restaurant, straight into his car and drives to the motel. he falls onto his bed, facing the ceiling. staring. thinking.

he now has no doubt that god is just trying to hurt him. calling him that word when it's well known on the team that one of his biggest fears is developing his mother's illness. it also just confirmed that the team are definitely in on it, because he hadn't confessed that to anyone else. 

it hurt. these people he's grown to love, none of them real. every conversation he's had with them, just ways to gain information. make him trust them. make him care about them. just for them to betray him in the end.

he ignores the niggling voice in the back of his head asking, "what if you're wrong?" 

the next day passes much like the first. he leaves early in the morning, drives until he finds a diner, drives for several hours after and then eventually stops at another motel for the night. he's not entirely sure where he is, but he knows there has to be a place to eat nearby so he continues driving, soon finding a mcdonalds. this city is busier than the others he'd past through, and he can't decide if that's good or not. 

normally he wouldn't be seen dead at mcdonalds - the food is too greasy and it's always packed full of people - but today he just doesn't care. he wants some nuggets and he's going to get his nuggets. a milkshake is bought too, just because he sees no reason not to treat himself. back at the motel, in bed, he eats his meal, wondering why he'd avoided the fast food place for so long if this is what it tastes like. his box is empty as he throws it out, which is the first time he's finished a whole dinner in months.

he's not tired enough to sleep yet, the betrayal of his friends still weighing on his mind. all he wants is to know what he did that was so awful. he likes to think of himself as a moral person, so as much as it would pain him, he'd get on his knees in front of god and beg for forgiveness that he probably doesn't deserve. he's not that desperate yet though. he's not ready to die.

but if he's going to die anyway, why should he live life from one motel room to the next? why should he spend life running from a god that he never used to believe in, knowing that he'll eventually end up face-to-face with him anyway? why let god keep the reins?

god has been in control all this time, manipulating him, making him play by his rules. it's about time spencer had some fun without worrying about the consequences for once.

spencer can't remember the last time he was this calm; this relaxed. he's on the run from god but he's never felt so alive.

eventually he falls asleep, still in the slacks and sweater vest he was wearing during the day. based on where he is, there's still over twenty hours of driving left until he reaches his destination, so he plans to fill up on gas before driving as long as he can.

cursing his motel room for not having a shower, he quickly changes before getting straight in his car. he doesn't feel hungry, so he immediately starts driving, filling up his tank as soon as he can. six hours pass before he fills it again, and then another five hours until he stops at a hotel. there's not much point in roughing it in a motel when these are his last days alive, so he may as well splurge and spend any money he wants. he has his bank card on him, and he no longer worries about his team finding him so he's safe to use it. overall, he's got plenty to spend. 

he still isn't hungry, but knows he should eat if he plans to drive the last nine hours or so tomorrow. from experience he knows that the best place to go is a burger joint a few minutes away from his hotel - the team had been here a few times and he'd quickly learnt that the place is open all night long and the workers don't judge you if you show up at four in the morning having clearly not slept much, everyday for the week you're in town. they will, however, give an amused smile when they see you walk in with your fellow fbi agents looking completely put together as if they hadn't served you five cups of coffee just hours prior. explaining to the team why the owners knew him on a first name basis was a fun experience. 

when he walks in, it looks the exact same as the last time he was there. same booths along the wall, same counter with the same man behind it, same welcoming atmosphere.

"spencer! it's been a while, it's good to see you." the man greets. 

spencer makes the split-second decision to spend his last days alive how he wants to, meaning that out loud he'll ignore that he knows his friend's true identity.

"hey, tom." he grins, sitting down in his usual seat - the booth closest to the counter.

god comes over, rag slung over his shoulder and white apron on. his smile looks genuine, but spencer knows better. "please tell me you're just visiting and there's not another murderer on the loose."

spencer laughs. "don't worry, i'm actually on a bit of a road trip right now."

god sits down across from him. "a road trip, huh? where you headed?" 

he bites back a laugh. of course god is still trying to get information out of him. 

"i'm not too sure," he lies, "i'm just driving and seeing where i end up."

"sounds like a solid plan. probably nice to see all these places without there being a crime scene."

"you got that right." 

god smiles at him. if this was any other situation, tom would be the sort of guy that spencer would go for. handsome, kind, smart, only a few years older than him. it's a shame he's not real. tonight, though, he can just pretend.

"so, your usual?" 

spencer nods, turning to look at the night sky while god turns back to the kitchen. all those stars shining in the night sky, what are they? obviously he knows that a star is supposedly just a celestial body of mostly hydrogen and helium, but now he's doubting it. perhaps the stars are prisons. how ironic that would be, for something he admires to be something so cruel. it would fit with everything else in his life.

he knows that if this was real, his team would be worried out of their minds right now. he's been gone for about three days now. garcia would have cried. morgan would have punched a wall. hotch would've tried to get them to focus on whatever case they were working whilst telling garcia to keep a separate search running for spencer. they would all be scared. he knows they're not though. 

a plate being placed in front of him breaks him out of his thoughts before they could get darker. in front of him sits a burger, his mouth watering just at the sight. a full cup of coffee sits next to it. he doesn't even have to taste it to know that it's done to perfection - tom always got it right.

he looks up and sees kind blue eyes staring back at him. "thank you." he says.

"you're very welcome. you want company while you eat?"

spencer thinks it over for a second. he knows that he's not actually having dinner with a hot guy, but it _would_ be nice to have some company. he hasn't had an actual conversation with someone in a few days. introverted as he is, he still needs human interaction.

"i'd like that."

he sits back down, and the two talk and talk, long after spencer's food is gone. it doesn't take long for him to forget that tom isn't actually tom, actually forgetting about why he's even there in the first place. by time spencer realises how late it's gotten, two hours have passed. other customers had come and gone, but not many and no more than one at a time. tom didn't have to get up at all, the other two employees taking care of it for him. 

"i should get going. but uh, this was fun. i needed this." spencer confesses. he really had needed it, one night where he can be himself whilst pretending that his companion was who he said he was.

"i had fun too. i was actually wondering, would i be able to have your number? like i said earlier, i'm moving to d.c in a few months. would be nice to know someone down there." 

he looks nervous. it makes spencer sad - now that he knows this is just a ruse, it hurts. but for the sake of pretending, he pushes the feeling down.

"i don't have a phone right now, but if you write your number down for me, i'll give you a call when i get back to virginia?" he offers.

the smile that lights up the other man's face would've once made spencer have a matching one. even now, he can't help but let a small smile slip through. 

"yeah! yeah, of course. i look forward to it." he rushes away to find a pen and paper.

spencer is the only customer left, and the last remaining employee is in the back. he heads over to the door, ready to leave but waiting for the number. what's the harm in playing along? 

eventually god comes back out, number in hand as he passes it to spencer, who tucks it into his pocket after reading it. the younger man waves and says, "it was nice seeing you again, tom. i wish this could have lasted longer." 

"me too, spencer. but hey, if you're ever around, you know where i'll be." 

they share one last smile before spencer walks out into the dark, not ready to face the world again. 

he goes back to the hotel he'd found earlier and once again pays for one night. it's late enough that the hallways are empty. as he's walking to his room, it hits him just how alone he really is. he has nobody. it's just him, and he's going to die alone.

the feeling of loneliness makes his heart feel heavy, and an intense sadness washes over him. he goes straight to the bathroom, dumping his bag on the floor and stripping off on his way. he turns the water hot enough for it to turn his skin red as he steps in, hoping the physical pain takes away the emotional pain. it doesn't.

water pouring over him as he stands in the shower, he finally breaks down. whether the stinging in his eyes is from tears or the boiling water, he's not sure. sobs wrack his thin frame as his knees buckle. he doesn't have the energy to keep himself up so his body drops, the pain in his knees not even registering. all he can do is back up into the corner and fold in on himself, wrapping his arms around his legs as if trying to hold in his emotions. the sounds ripping from his throat begin to sound like they're bordering on painful but he doesn't care. 

he just wants his old life back. yes, he's been put through a lot and had more shit to deal with than he ever should have. it was okay, though, because he had his friends. he had his mother. he had the random people he'd pass in the streets who would smile his way. he had the victims he'd saved and the chance to give closure to the families of those he couldn't. now he knows that none of it was real. none of it. and there's nothing he can do about it.

he doesn't know how long he's there for. he doesn't care. when he finally does emerge, he doesn't bother getting dressed, instead choosing to drop straight on top of the covers and curl into a ball. no energy is left in his body, not even enough to produce anymore tears, so he lies there motionless until the exhaustion of his breakdown pulls him down into a deep sleep. 

in the morning he's cold and he's tired and he's angry. he's done. today, he's having fun. he'll drive the last nine hours and then he's doing whatever the fuck he wants. no consequences. 

despite the late night, he's still awake early, meaning he's dressed and driving before most people are even awake. a nine hour drive later, he finds himself finally at his destination. somewhere he said he wouldn't be going.

las vegas.

it's rather poetic, don't you think? the place he's born, also being the place he dies? 

he doesn't know when exactly he made the decision to take his death into his own hands. it could've been that night he had mcdonalds, when he decided he was going to have fun before he died. it could've been as soon as he figured out why people stared at him. it could've been the second he saw the sign that said 'welcome to vegas'. it's not as if it matters. what does matter is that his mind is set. 

tonight he is going to live life like there is no tomorrow, because there isn't.

his first stop is the closest atm that doesn't have many people around it. he draws out all of his money, not caring about what's left. if anything goes wrong and he needs more, he has his savings account. 

next, he finds his favourite place to eat when he was a kid - a small diner. the reids never had much money, even before william left. his father had worked late every night (probably as a way to stay away from home, he thinks), so it was up to spencer and diana to sort dinner out. spencer never did find out if william knew that diana didn't feed him. for the first six years of his life, diana was lucid a lot more, but after that she deteriorated quickly. _coincidentally_ , that was when william stopped coming home for dinner. that meant that it was up to spencer to find food for himself and his mother. he found the diner quickly, and became fond of it even quicker. it was the cheapest place with good quality food close enough to his house that the food was still hot by time he got back. this meant that he'd go everyday for several years, sometimes twice as a way to hide from diana during some of her episodes. 

he hadn't been to the diner since he'd just gotten clean from dilaudid, when he wanted some semblance of safe. ever since he was a kid, this was his home. not the house he grew up in, not his apartment, but this diner. this diner where he sat doing his homework, or writing his thesis, or reading a book. this diner where the workers cared for him, letting him have his meals for free. this diner where the workers let him sit in the small staff room when he couldn't hold back his tears. they never really knew what was wrong, but they had their suspicions. 

he walks in, immediately being surrounded by a familiar aroma like a warm hug, causing a smile to come onto his face that he didn't fight against. this place never failed to make him smile even just by walking through the door.

michael, the owner, has to do a double take when he sees spencer before his jaw dropped. after a second of staring, he walks quickly to the younger man to embrace him. they say their hellos before he orders his usual, which they miraculously still remember, and sits down to eat it. the owner sits across from him and they catch up, spencer sticking with his 'road trip' story. tonight, god doesn't exist. this is his last night alive and he is not wasting time thinking about the real identity of the man across from him - tonight, that man is just michael.

it's when spencer has finished his food that michael asks the question spencer's been waiting for. "so, spencer, of course you don't have to answer or anything but i've always wondered. why were you here so much as a kid? you show up everyday, sometimes twice, and then disappear only to show up again one more time years later." 

spencer takes a breath and licks lips gone dry. despite all the progress he's made and the things he's discovered, it's still not easy to talk about his childhood. "my mother is a paranoid schizophrenic." michael's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "my father left when i was ten, but he wasn't around much for years before that. it was my job to put food on the table for mom and i. sometimes mom would have an episode and i'd need to leave the house for a few hours."

the man across from him is speechless for a few seconds before muttering, "shit, spencer. i'm sorry."

"don't worry about it." he gives a half-smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "it's in the past now, i've made my peace with it. thank you for taking care of me, by the way. i don't think i ever thanked you before."

"you were a little scrawny kid that came here alone everyday, we were two steps away from adopting you."

that makes spencer's smile more genuine as he replies, "you practically did. i spent more time here than at home. i missed it a lot while i was gone. i missed you guys a lot."

"we missed you too, kiddo." he squeezes spencer's hand that's resting on the table, then interlocks his own hands and rests them in front of him. "you look a lot better than the last time you were here." 

"probably because i've not just gone through withdrawal this time." the words are out before spencer even knows he's opened his mouth but he doesn't really care. he may be pretending that this man isn't god, but that doesn't get rid of his 'no tomorrow' mindset.

michael is again rendered speechless, staring at spencer with his lips slightly parted in surprise. his mouth opens and closes several times much like that of a fish before words finally come out. "i'm sorry?"

spencer smiles. "yeah, i'd just gone through withdrawal while i was back in d.c, and as soon as i felt good enough i hopped in my car and drove straight here."

the man blinks. "withdrawal? like drug withdrawal? you?"

"yep."

"...i- what?"

he fights the odd urge to chuckle at the man's surprise. "i'm an addict. been clean for a few years now, though."

michael's head tilts, looking at the doctor as if he's a puzzle. "well, first of all, i'm proud of you for being clean for so long." spencer's smile is small but genuinely happy, a warm feeling spreading through his chest at the praise despite knowing it's not actually real. "second of all, can i ask… how exactly did that happen? i just- i can't imagine you getting involved with a bad crowd. you're an fbi agent, for pete's sake. that alone should've stopped anything from getting to you."

oh, the irony. "actually, it was the job that lead me to it." michael raises an eyebrow. "there was a case a few years back. i got kidnapped and tortured by a man with multiple personalities, and one of those personalities repeatedly drugged me in his own way of helping. said it would make it better. got me hooked. i used for a few months before getting myself clean."

michael blows out a breath. "jesus, spencer. i never would've guessed. i don't- i don't know what to say." he shakes his head as he stares in disbelief at the younger man. "shit, man. you've been through too much." 

spencer's eyes focus on the table. "yeah," he said softly, "i have. i'm okay, though. things will be better soon." this time it's spencer's turn to blow out a breath, before he forces a smile onto his face and lets his eyes go back to staring at the space between his friend's eyes (eye contact is still an issue for him, no matter if he's living like there's no tomorrow). "so, how's the family been?"

michael accepts the change in topic, and they converse for another half an hour before spencer says he has to leave. they part ways, michael heading back to the kitchen and spencer heading back to his car. 

from there he drives straight to a casino, to one of the few that he's not yet banned from. he plays a few games there, wins a few grand, and leaves. he doesn't actually need the money, obviously, he just wanted to play. plus, winning too much is exactly how he'd get thrown out. he hadn't really thought about what to do with the money, so he goes back to the diner.

he peaks through the window to make sure michael isn't there, and then hurries over to the tip jar. one of the workers that know him spots him as he reaches the counter and raises an eyebrow at his secrecy. he puts a finger to his lips and then points at michael. two thousand goes into the tip jar and he winks at the worker watching him before leaving. he doesn't wait around to see the reaction, choosing to instead get into his car and drive away.

he's aware that there was no point in giving money to the diner - what's god going to do with two grand when he's literally every person in the world? god doesn't need it. but neither does spencer, so he may as well get rid of it. by this point, it's dark out. he doesn't know what time it is due to his lack of a phone but that doesn't matter. no point buying a phone when this is his last night alive. 

after driving around for a few minutes, he finds exactly what he's looking for - a bar, not too packed but not empty. he goes in, sits down, and orders the first drink of many.

* * *

the first thing spencer notices when he wakes up is the pounding in his head before his eyes are even fully open and the nausea churning in his stomach so harshly that all he can do is roll onto his side, hang off the bed, and throw up onto the floor. he stays in that position for several minutes once he's finishing vomiting, trying to catch his breath. eventually he manages to push himself up, flopping down onto his back staring at a ceiling that he doesn't recognise. 

he tries to look around but the sharp pain in his head makes him realise that that isn't a good idea. shit, how much did he drink last night? he blinks aimlessly at the ceiling for several minutes until he finally gets enough energy and focus to force himself into a sitting position, prepared to throw up again at any moment but gladly not having to. his eyes remain closed the entire time, and continue to stay closed as he attempts to figure out where exactly he is. the last thing he remembers is going to his apartment after work. 

_i have an eidetic memory_ , he thinks, _i should be able to remember where i am, jesus fucking chri-_

his eyes shoot open and stare at the wall across from him as his blood runs cold. the memories rush to the front of his mind and he can remember the past few days in complete clarity, minus any time after entering that bar.

holy shit. _holy shit_.

he feels paralysed with fear, completely unable to move. if he moves, that makes it real. it makes it real that he's in vegas. it makes it real that he literally ran away from home. it makes it real that he's spent the last several days entirely convinced that everyone in the world was actually god and this was his own personal prison. 

it makes it real that he was going to kill himself.

he slowly looks down at the bed, finally noticing the two empty bottles of vodka next to him. his eyes trail down to the bottom of the bed and-

his heart stops. he has to be seeing things. he leans forward, a shaky hand stretching out to grab the objects of his horror. he can't take his eyes off it, no matter how much he wants to shut them tight and act like it never happened. he wants to pretend that he isn't holding a vial of dilaudid and a used needle. 

ever so slowly, his head turns to look at the crook of his left arm, immediately finding two fresh track marks.

he doesn't know what to do. he needs to call someone, but what exactly would he even say? if he told anybody about this… this what? episode? no, that was what his mother had. he didn't have episodes. but what else would it be called if not by its name? he could try to soften the blow by disguising it under a falsehood but the impact would still bruise the same.

he knows what this was. he's seen his mother have enough to know, without a doubt, what happened. it was a delusion. a full-fledged delusion. spencer reid, the man of logic, tricked into a lie by his own mind.

how did it get this bad? one day he was perfectly fine, going about his life, and now suddenly one of his worst fears has come true.

suddenly, all he can think is that he wants his friends; his family. they must be worried sick by now. he feels awful, not just physically (physically, he feels like absolute shit, everything _hurts_ so bad) but emotionally too. he must have put his friends through so much the past few days. he needs them, and he knows that they need to hear from him.

looking down, he's not sure if luck is on his side as he spots a phone sat on the pillow next to him. did he buy it last night? wait, he doesn't even know if he's the only one here. a hand under the covers confirms that he's still wearing boxers and... jeans? he's not sure where they came from, but he's not going to question it, mostly scared of the answer.

"hello?" he calls out, voice wobbling. "is there anyone here?" 

no reply sounds and he breathes a sigh of relief. at least he didn't bring anybody back with him. that brings his attention back to the device in his hands as he attempts to unlock it with the password he had on his old phone. success. it must be his phone then, he supposes. before he's even aware of what he's doing, he's already typed a number in and is holding the phone up to his ear listening to the ringing. three rings sound and he begins to think that nobody is going to answer when-

"this is morgan."

spencer can't seem to get any words out, can barely breath.

"is anybody there?"

tears burn the backs of his eyes, but the knowledge that just last night he thought he would never hear his best friends voice again burns more.

"i'm hanging up."

"morgan." he breathes out quietly. so quietly he's not even sure that the man could hear him.

"...who's this?"

a choked sob forces its way out of spencer's mouth. "it's me, derek. it's spencer."

"oh my god, spencer." his voice grows louder but slightly distant, probably shouting to the rest of the team. "it's spencer!" spencer's eyes shut as emotions threaten to overwhelm him. morgan's voice is back to being quiet now, but the slight echo means he's on speaker. spencer is okay with that. "shit, am i glad to hear from you, pretty boy. where are you?" 

"i-i'm in vegas. in a hotel. not sure which one."

"that's okay. penelope can find out. are you alone?"

"yeah, yeah i'm alone."

"is the unsub gone?"

"...unsub?" 

"whoever took you, are they still there?"

spencer's brain still isn't fully functioning due to the hangover and possible withdrawal symptoms, though the two are hard to distinguish between right now.

"whoever took me?"

morgan sounds like he's trying to be patient. "yes, spencer. whoever took you, are they still there or can you leave?"

oh. _oh_. they don't know. they think he was kidnapped. how is he supposed to tell them the truth?

"derek… there is no unsub. i left alone."

the silence is on morgan's side of the phone now. a few second later, hotch speaks up. "are you sure?"

spencer could laugh if he wasn't so damn terrified right now. "yes, hotch. it's a- it's a long story. just, please. please someone come get me. please. i'll explain later but right now i need someone here."

"you got it, kid. you're in luck, we just finished up a case in los angeles, was about to go home. we'll stop off in vegas first for you, okay?" rossi's voice holds just the right amount of reassurance, making spencer relax very slightly.

"yeah," he whispers, "yeah, okay. just um, when you get here. don't- you have to- can you- only one person in the room. my room. only morgan can come in. nobody else. no questions. explain later." 

his brain can't seem to form full sentences, but it seems to get his point across as morgan assures him that he'll be the only one to come in. morgan seems to be reluctant to hang up the phone, so spencer does it after a quick, "i'll see you soon."

he's not entirely certain how long he sits there for, staring but not seeing. at some point, he slumps back down, curling up into a ball with his knees tucked into his chest. after what felt simultaneously like hours and seconds, a knock sounds on his hotel room door, the noise of which vibrates through his skull and only adding onto the pain. he doesn't reply with words, choosing to just grunt as loud as he can. 

the first sight of morgan is like a breath of fresh air. that's his best friend. not god. that's his very much real best friend. the second he sees him, spencer bursts into tears. morgan is just frozen solid in the doorway. not that spencer blames him, he knows how pathetic he must look right now - curled up into a ball, sobbing, surrounded by alcohol and drugs after disappearing for several days.

eventually spencer works up the courage to sit back up and face morgan. he lifts his arms, much like a child would when asking to be picked up. this seems to break his friend out of his trance, him rushing forwards to envelope the smaller man in a hug as he holds his shaking body. the only times when spencer has ever asked for a hug like that were when he was severely sleep deprived and not entirely aware of what was going on, which probably accurately describes him right now. 

morgan shushes him and pets his hair, taking a seat next to spencer and pulling him forward until the man was practically on his lap, still curled up. spencer does his best to get his breathing under control but finds that all he can do is cry. it takes a tremendous effort to make any words come out at all.

"i need help, derek. i need help."

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enoyed! as always, all feedback is appreciated
> 
> i now have a [tumblr](http://sadspencer.tumblr.com) too with the same username as here:) come be my friend


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